Without Rachel 2
by Deansgirl95
Summary: Rachel's turned her back on Dean after learning the truth about how her father died. She wants nothing to do with anything related to the Winchesters and has all but disappeared. Dean's never felt like this before. He's lost with out her. Feelings he's never had before plague him every day as he tries to go about his life Without Rachel. Story 9 in my series, please read and review
1. Chapter 1

Dean didn't tell Sam about John getting James O'Conner killed until about three days after they left the road house. He'd walked away from Rachel, got in the car with his brother and drove away in silence.

He would have told Sam if he'd asked, but he hadn't. Dean was grateful to Sam for picking up on the fact that things hadn't gone well and not asking about it.

Dean hadn't been angry at her after. She'd avoided his touch like he carried a deadly virus, and while that hurt he'd sucked it up because he felt horrible for her, had wanted to comfort her, to say that he was sorry and let her know that if he'd known he never would have kept it from her.

As time went on he began to feel more and more rejected. She'd told him to go and avoided his eyes like he'd been the one that had taken her father away. It wasn't until later, when he and Sam had finally gotten a motel room and laid down for some much needed sleep, that the resentment started to bubble up.

He'd lain there listening to Sam snore peacefully on the bed next to him. As exhausted as he was, sleep should have come easily, but instead his brain was running over that conversation over and over again. Every time he envisioned her pulling away when he'd tried to reach out to her, he felt it like a kick to his stomach. He tried to defend her actions in his head,tried to find reason in the way she'd treated him, but to no avail.

There were moments in his argument with himself that he could almost forgive her for treating him like that; there were moments when he chastised himself for making the situation about him.. She'd just found out that her father had been killed because of a mistake by his father, of course she was going to be averse to anything Winchester after that.

Around and around he went with it, but kept coming back to the point that she had no reason to be angry at him. He himself had done nothing, and they were lovers on top of that. Did their time together mean nothing to her? Give him any kind of pass for his father's actions? It was those thoughts that made him angry at her.

_You sound like a damn chick, Dean._ His conflict within himself was soon shut out by the sheer exhaustion that ran through his body. He took his thoughts into his dreams with him and it was there that Rachel was running from him, and he was trying to catch up with her, yelling at her to stop and listen to him. When he finally caught up to her with a hand on her shoulder, she refused to turn around and look at him. He tried to turn her around himself so she could look him in the eye but every time he did, over and over again, it was always her back that faced him.

Three days later he told Sam about it. Sam defended her of course and Dean knew he was right to do so. Sam argued that she was hurt and needed some time alone and they should just let her be for a while,so Dean let her be and didn't call her.

They got a case not long after that and that kept his attention for a whole week. When it was over he felt like it was time to call her but unfortunately that thought came while he was sitting in jail cell. So his options were _very_ limited.


	2. Chapter 2

_What the hell am I doing? _Dean thought to himself as he covered the box with dirt in the middle of the cross road. The crickets chirped all around him in the cool night and he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he thought about the life he was trying to save.

Evan was back at his house with Sam, who was trying to save the man's life by warding off the Hell Hound that was after him while Dean was here doing this. He covered the box that held his photo along with various other Hoodoo objects that would summon the Demon that he needed to talk to.

He began to rise from his crouch, he spotted her even before he was standing fully upright.

His heart stopped in his chest...No, it couldn't be.

_Rachel? _

No. No it wasn't Rachel. The woman before him could very well have been her sister though. She was slight and wore a black dress, beautiful cleavage was temptingly displayed in the low Vee neck line and her face was framed by lovely, dark, flowing locks of hair. But the resemblance didn't stop there, even her features reminded him of Rachel slightly, everything but her eyes that was. The woman before him had rich brown eyes instead of Rachel's vibrant green.

The resemblance to the girl he thought about on a daily basis was enough to throw him off kilter a bit. So he pulled his focus back in as the girl before him spoke and told him he'd called her to that place. She revealed the monster within those beautiful features with eyes that glowed fire red for a moment before reverting back to deep chocolate. This was the cross roads demon. She even called him by his name.

"So, you know who I am." He asked.

"I get the newsletter." She responded with a half smile.

They bantered back and forth for a bit before she asked him what he wanted. Dean told her as much as he could before beginning the process of luring her to 1 of the 2 devils traps he had waiting near the Impala. As they walked and talked he found it hard not to focus on her resemblance to Rachel.

There wasn't a day that had gone by in the last month that he hadn't thought about her. What she was doing, wondering if she hated him.

This demon bitch looking like her was the worst thing that could happen right at this moment. He missed Rachel. Longed to make things right between them but now wasn't the time to think about all that but this beautiful, hateful demon bitch looking like her twin made his head swim with thoughts he couldn't afford right now. Once again he tried to focus on saving Evans life as they strolled almost leisurley through the night.

He told her that he wanted to make a deal and wanted Evan let out of his contract. She told him it wasn't possible, which is what he expected to hear.

"I'll make it worth your while." He said.

"Oh really? What are you offering?" She sauntered.

"Me." He answered.

Her next words took thoughts of Rachel right out of his head though.

"Well, well, well. You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like father, like son." She said mockingly.

He eyed her questioningly. Why would she say something like that?

"You did know about your dad's deal, right? His life for yours? Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but... boy, I wish I had." She said with a smug look.

Panic rose inside his chest. She was just talking. No way that was the truth. He gritted his teeth and opened the door of the impala for her.

_Head in the game, head in the game. _

"After you." He said.

She began to enter the car and Dean held his breath. All she needed to do was sit that fine, plump ass down and...She hesitated. Looked down at her feet and saw the bit of white chalk spray he'd had no choice but to leave exposed left she be able to escape one she was inside. She backed away and turned to face him.

Her face contorted in anger, she advanced on him, through gritted teeth she threatened to tear him limb from limb.

As tiny as she was compared to him he knew she could do it. But he had one more shot at this and he couldn't blow it. He pretended to be frightened of her and backed up under the wooden structure that held a small silo for the farm field nearby and the other Devil's Trap.

"Take your best shot." He said, trying to sound more pleading than defiant.

"No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery." She said, her features (so much like Rachel's) softening a bit.

"Yeah? Why not?" He asked.

"Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt."

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck but forced himself to focus. She was a lying bitch and she was just trying to goad him. He had to have the upper hand, get her under the devil's trap.

"It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, "I can't do this anymore." You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault. You blew it, Dean! I could have given you what you need."

"What do I need?" he asked.

"Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice long life." She said and then began to walk away from him, her perfectly flared hips swaying in that damn dress. _NO!_

"Hold on." He said as calmly as he could.

She turned around to face him again. She wanted to play that game, he didn't want to go there but if he was going to gain the upper hand he needed to play into her.

"Can you bring him back? My dad?" He forced himself to say with as much plea in his voice as he could muster.

"Of course I can. Just as he was. Your dad would live a long and natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise."

It was working; she moved closer to him again and was fluttering around the edge of the structure.

"And this girl you keep thinking I look like," She said.

His head shot up, he blinked at her in shock.

"Oh yeah, I feel her in your mind." She said with a snotty laugh. "You think about her almost as much as you think about your dad. The great Dean Winchester has fallen in love. I can make her yours as well. Would that sweeten the deal for you?"

Dean clenched his jaw. Damn this fucking bitch, she'd succeded in throwing him off. He wasn't prepared for that at all.

"What about me?" He asked. Hoping to change the subject.

"I could give you ten years. Ten long, good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited. And a pretty brunette thrown in there as well. I'm sure your children will be beautiful and get this, daddy would enjoy his grandchildren. Isn't that sweet?"

She advanced toward him and finally stepped under the structure into the trap.

_Got you, bitch!_ Dean rejoyced inwardly but outwardly he forced himself to keep his poker face as she continued to speak, thinking she was gaining the upper hand.

"Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top not only with him but with the woman you love. That's a bonus."

He backed away until she was alone under the trap, still looking somber and deep in thought.

"You think you could...throw in a set of steak knives?" He asked with as serious a face as he could hold.

Her features turned dark once again, she must have truely believed she'd had him on the line and was getting tired of his non chalance. She took several steps toward him, this time Hell bent on tearing him limb from limb like she'd promised he was sure, but the moment she'd reached the end of the trap painted on the underside of the silo abover her head it was as if she'd hit a wall.

And invisable wall that held her in place, as if she was a dog on a chain that had run out of slack as it charged and was snapped back when the leash became tought.

Confusion crossed her beautiful features, her brow scrunched up and she looked around, trying to see what it was that held her. Then she looked up, spotted the sorce of her imprisonment, the white spray paint above her head, and growled in anger at him.

_Ok, time to get this deal done._

He told the Rachel look-a-like what he wanted: Evan out of his contract, he and his wife living long natural lives. She claimed not be able to break a binding contract. He called bullshit on her but she still claimed to be helpless.

_Hardball it is, sweetie. _

Dean reached into the inside pocket of his jacket ad pulled out his father's leather bound journal. The flipped to a well used page in the center and began the Latin chant that was written there that would exercise her back to Hell.

It must be painful for demons to be exercised, Dean noted. He watched her pretty face contort as she looked at him hatefully as the latin poured from his mouth. He circled her around the silo, her eyes never leaving him as her body quivered and jerked in mounting violence as he read.

About half way through he was beginning to worry that he would finish and his bluff wold be called with this demon. What would he do then to help Evan?

A moment later she shrieked at him to stop. And he did, looking up at he with as cool a glance as he could muster despite his rising panic inside.

"Forget Evan. Think of your dad. Think of the girl." She pled.

He couldn't help but do just that. He thought about his father...Rachel...what she offered.

_NO! Focus damn it, she's trying to sell you a lie!_

As an answer to her h looked back down and continued where he'd left off. She howeled in pain renewed.

"Wait!" She yelled.

He waited, looking up at her again.

"Fine." She said.

"Fine?" He asked.

"Yes. I'm not ready to leave this beautiful body yet so we've got a deal. Just put the book down." She said, panting just a bit.

Dean shut the book and replaced in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Come here and we'll seal the deal. Evan's life for my freedom."

Triumpth rang all through him as he reluctantly he stepped closer to her, every one of his senses a hair wire trigger ready to defend himself if she was just trying to get him within arms reach to tear his head off.

There was no trick, but what she did do took him by such surprise that his heart almost stopped in his chest.

She reached up and placed her hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her she closed her mouth over his in a passionate kiss.

Shock ran through him like electricity, but to his own dismay he found himself responding to it after a moment. The last time a woman had kissed him it had been Rachel, here he was being kissed by her almost twin who just happed to be a demon and yet somehow...….he was into it.

She finally pulled away and he looked down at her in shock.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked.

"Sealing the deal." She said.

"I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue." He snarked.

"You thought of her while I kissed you. Don't even pretend that you didn't" The demon said.

He set his jaw at her words. The bitch was either a mind reader or too damn insightful for her own good. He hated her for knowing what was inside his head. _Fucking demons._

She told him that Evan was free. He asked her how he'd know she wasn't lying and she basically told him he had no choice but to trust her. Which unfortunately, yeah he had no choice but to do. But there was something in her eyes when she told him she was telling the truth. Surprisingly, he believed her.

It was only because of that that he honored his half of the deal and didn't finish the exorcism. He wasn't about to let a demon be the trustworthy one here. That and the fact that she promised to skin Evan alive when she crawled back out of Hell was what made him break the trap and let her out.

"I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew." She said and she walked out, free of the binding.

"Knew what?" He asked.

"Two things. First, she thinks about you too. You two dumb love birds will figure it out eventually but I could have saved you a lot of heart ache and trouble inbetween it all."

Dean tried not to respond to that. She didn't know what she was talking about.

"And second being where your dad is. You should have made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing."

"Shut your mouth, bitch." He warned. That was too much not to respond to.

"If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?"

The thin cord that was holding Dean together all this time as she baited him with his father finally snapped. He stalked toward her, he was going to make her hurt for tormenting him. All he ever did was think about his father and where he could be and he wasn't about to let this horrible bitch say one more fucking word to twist the knife that was already in his gut.

Before he could reach her she threw her head back and he watched as the black smoke that was the demon left her body through her mouth.

It billowed above his head and snaked away into the night before he could even react to it. When it was over the girl fell to the floor and looked up at him, frightened.

"How did I get here?" She asked in a shaky voice.

Damn it. Dean wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the hateful bitch apart.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean closed the lab door behind Dr. Lee and waited for Sam to object again. To insist that he go with the Doctor and Mark again. But all Dean heard behind him was silence. Dean turned around to face him and saw why.

The younger man had tears running down his face as he looked at his brother, a quiet acceptance of the knowledge that his words were pointless to try to convince Dean to leave him behind even though he was dying.

Dean ignored the tears and moved to sit on the table across from his little brother.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something." Humor. Always the best way to diffuse a situation. Sam appearently didn't think so because he continued to let the tears roll down his face.

"Dean, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." Sam said. His voice shaky with emotion.

"No way." Dean said. Hoping to convey in those two words that there was nothing Sam could say to make him abandon him.

"Give me my gun, and leave." Sam demanded.

"For the last time, Sam. No." Dean said quietly.

Sam slammed his hand down on the matal table he was leaning against hard. Causing Dean to flinch at the resounding bang that bounced off the walls.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." Sam said through clinched teeth and a new wave of tears.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Dean said, his tone of voice remaining even and calm. "Remember that waitress in Tampa?" He gave a fake shudder and still didn't get rewarded by a laugh from Sam. _Sheesh, though crowd._

"Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you."

There were truth to his words. Sam had been infected with what ever damn virus this town had spreading through it. A demonic virus of all things. Soon Sam would turn into one of the Zombie-like minions outside if he didn't put a bullet in his own brian first.

"No?" Dean asked.

"No, you can keep going." Sam said.

"Who says I want to?" Dean blurted.

Sam flinched and blinked at that. They stared at one another for several seconds before Sam spoke again.

"What?" He asked.

Dean pulled his gun out of the waist band of his jeans and layed it on the table next to him. He did this slowly, to allow himself time to think about his next words.

As his brain ran through all the possible things he could say he was taken aback by how unfiltered he felt right now. The promise of death hung over both their heads, so there was no reason to be gaurded or hold back. It was a relief to speak honestly when next he did.

"I'm tired, Sam." He said. "I'm tired of this job, this life . . . this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it. I'm paying for things that I've done and even things I haven't done. Things that dad left me with to stew in."

"You mean Rachel?" Sam asked.

He hadn't meant Rachel actually. He'd meant dad telling him he might have to kill Sam down the road, but now that Sam had mentioned it, yeah, Rachel was another of the things he was stuck living with because of his father.

For months on end now he'd given her time. Tried to allow her to come to him after finding out that his father had killed hers. She never did. The call never came and all he did was think about her.

After dealing with the demon at the cross roads he'd realized many things, one of which was that what ever was between them, this hatred Rachel had shown him after she'd found out the truth, he had to try to make ammends. He didn't believe her for a second, but the cross roads demon said that Rachel thought of him too. He didn't realize how much of that hope he'd held onto in the days after she'd said it, even while trying to convince himself that she had just been trying to manipulate him.

So he'd called Rachel one night a few days after speaking with the cross roads demon. Sam had been alseep. Surprisingly, she'd answered.

"Hello Dean." She'd said quietly.

Hearing her voice for the first time in so long, hearing his name on her lips, it did something to him inside. It felt warm and aching, made him want...God, want something! If only he knew what.

"Hey, listen I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now. But I figured it was time we talked, don't you?" He asked.

She was silent on the other end for a long time. He knew she was thinking and he let her. He didn't expect her response at all though.

"I'm sorry Dean. I can't." Was all she said before hanging up.

The click of the line going dead was very much like a baseball bat to his gut. He'd held on to the phone and stared at it for several minutes before putting it down and letting it sink in that she still wanted nothing to do with him.

He once again tried to make himself angry at her for punishing him for something that he was a complete innocent in. But he couldn't. He knew she wasn't punishing him, she was just unable to deal with everything he represented. And that was the death of her father.

Dean came back to reality and looked at Sam once again. He thought about telling him the truth about what dad said right here. No point in keeping secrets anymore, they'd both be dead before sunrise.

At the last moment Dean decided against it. What was the point? They had a few hours to live yet, why burden it with horrible truths that didn't matter anymore?

"Yeah." Dean answered. "I'll admit it, I can't stop thinking about her and she wants nothing to do with me bcause of dad."

"So what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has-" Sam began but Dean cut him off.

"You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but . . ."

"What is it about?" Sam asked.

Before Dean could answer Dr. Lee opened the door to the lab, making them both jump.

She looked frantic and Dean reached for his gun on the table, ready to come to her aid.

"You'd better come see this." She said breathlessly.

She led them both outside into the darkness, the street was empty where there had been a hoard of infected towns people just an hour before. Dean looked up and down the streets, desserted every where he could see.

"They're all gone." Dr. Lee said.

An hour later there was still no sign of a single human soul except the three of them. 2 hours later Sam still hadn't turned into...what ever it was that the infection was supposed to make him so Dr. Lee suggested testing his blood again.

Three hours and four blood tests later Sam showed no sign of the infection what so ever.

Almost literally scratching their heads at having survived one of the most terrifying nights of their lives and not meeting their maker when it had seen imminent, Sam and Dean Winchester left the empty town and it's doctor with a plate full of questions.

On the road Dean reflected on their conversation in the lab. He decided that their trip into the twilight zone wouldn't be for nothing. It was time to share what dad had said with Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was going to skin Sam alive...as soon as he could fucking find him that is.

Almost 48 hours now since Dean had woken in their motel room to find Sam gone, along with his back pack. Every one in his phone book from Ellen to Bobby had been contacted trying to find him and still nothing. He'd even reluctantly called Rachel when he'd run out of names. She hadn't picked up so he'd left a voice mail, just explaining that Sam was M.I.A. and asking if she'd heard from him and to please call him back if she did.

It was like Sam had disappeared off the face of the planet. Dean cursed himself for the 900th time for making the stupid decision to share with him what their father had said just before he'd died. That's what had sent Sam off, he was sure of it. But to do what? In search of what? Didn't he understand that the reason he'd finally told him was so that they could handle this together?

His phone rang on the seat next to him, glancing at it he hoped to see Sam's name lit on the LED screen, but it wasn't. It was Rachel's. With his heart in his throat he picked it up and said hello.

"Have you found him?" She asked. Right to business.

"No, and I'm taking it you haven't heard from him?" Dean asked.

"No. I haven't. Why is he gone? What happened?" She asked.

Dean's heart grew heavy at hearing her voice. Almost 4 months now since she'd turned her back on him and this was the most he'd spoken to her in all that time. He knew that things were still sour within her, but he was greatful that her concern for Sam was big enough that she was able to over look how she felt at least for a moment to try and help him find his brother.

"I told him." Dean said.

She was silent on the other line. He didn't have to explain what he was talking about. She knew. He'd told her, let the weight of the burden his father had put on him off his chest after they'd made love in her tree house. She was the only other human being alive in the world now, besides Sam, that knew what his fathers dying words and warning had been.

"Why did you do that Dean?" She asked. He voice dropped into that mellow and heartfelt tone that he'd begun to recognize. Almost sad but non judgemental, comforting but not accusing. Warmth spread in his chest upon hearing it. It was almost like she cared again, almost like she was...Maybe starting to forgive?

"I don't know Rach. It just felt like the right thing to do. Like the time was right." He confessed.

She was silent on the other end for a moment. And then just like that, with out warning, her voice went back to being all business.

"If I hear form him I'll call you. I promise." She said.

The line went dead after that. Dean held the phone to his ear for a second before letting it fall back onto the seat beside him. For a moment there she'd melted. For a moment there she'd forgotten to hate him. For a moment she'd been the girl he missed.

But it had only lasted a moment before she put the wall back into place and shut him out again. He should be angry at her for that, but he wasn't. Instead he found that a bit of hope sparked inside him. Maybe she was begining to come around.

He pushed his thoughts back to his missing brother as the phone rang again. It was Ellen this time and she was about to prove to be a much bigger help in finding Sam than her daughter had been a moment ago.


	5. Chapter 5

_Well there's an ominous house shrouded in mist and death if I've even seen on._ Sam thought as Dean pulled the car up the semi circular, cobble stone drive way of the huge Inn.

Trough the rain speckeled windhshield of the impala Sam took in the large structure with all it's dark, heavy wood and dark brown siding. The windows were huge and peering and the steps leading to the front door were solid stone.

The overcast sky and drizzily rain completed the picture. All in all Sam felt that the grand Inn should belong in the English country side, not here in America. The overall feeling was heavy, dark, leering, oppressing. Just how he felt inside these days so it was only fitting that he spend the next few days here hunting...what ever needed to be hunted here.

"Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this." From Dean of course.

Sam struggled not to roll his eyes as his brothers fortellable geekness when it came to things like this. But for this moment he welcomed it, anything not to think about Ava missing, her dead fiance or the fact that his father had all but ordered his death by the hand of his only sibling if he was overtaken by the darkness within him.

Hell, Dean's silly light mood might do him some good right now so he took the bait.

"Like what?" Sam asked and they both exited the car into the chilly wind that swept up the drive way.

"Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways ... sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside." Dean said.

They walked to the trunk of the car and withdrew their duffle bags, Sam's was surprised to hear that Dean had taken in the house's bulking, looming presence the same way he had. Only with a cartoon reference which was very Dean-like.

"Mmm, Daphne. Love her." Dead added as he shut the trunk and closed his eyes to savor the mention of the red headed cartoon heroine of his dreams.

"So do you think of Daphne these days to not think of Rachel?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

Dean's eyes shot open and Sam knew that he'd earnd the glare that was shot at him.

It was a dirty blow and he knew it. Sam knew even with out being told the toll Rachel's withdrawl had on his brother, knew Dean thought about her often and ached over the distance she'd enforced between them. He also knew that Dean tried as hard as he could to put it on the back burner on his heart and mind so that they could deal with the issues that pressed over their heads more immenently.

But Sam wasn't ok with that. He knew that Dean could only do so much with Rachel feeling the way she felt, but damn it why didn't Dean just go after her and make her listen to him?

He had no idea if Dean actually knew it but he was INSANE about her. And it hurt Sam to see Dean as hurt as he was pretending not to be.

"Don't start, Sam." Dean said shouldering his duffle and heading past him toward the stairs.

"We could walk away from here right now, get in the car, find her and tie her to a chair until she's willing to work out how she feels." Sam called, not moving from his spot besdies the car.

Dean turned back to him, his eyes heavy and his mood not so light anymore. Sam felt a twinge of guilt at being the reason the lightheartedness had gone out of him but he pushed it aside to continue to try to make Dean go after what he wanted. Needed.

"She won't speak to me, Sam. I've tried and tried again. The longest conversation I've had with her in months was about 3 minutes long and that was only to discuss if you were alive or dead when you went on your joy ride with Ava. If she hadn't been worried about you she never even would have done that with me. You think chaining her to a chair is going to make her like me again?" Dean asked.

"I think it'll make her see how important she is to you, That might make her find it in herself to rethink how she feels." Sam offered.

"Our father killed her's, Sam." Dean said. "You think me telling her she makes me feel gooey inside is going to change that?"

"She found out very bluntly, Dean. She's still reeling from the shock and that's what this is. If Ellen could forgive dad you really don't think Rachel can forgive us?" Sam said.

Dean just looked at him. His eyes more open and telling than Dean ever would allow in a conversation like this and Sam knew the reason behind the venerability: Sam's words were giving him hope. Hope he desperately needed to cope with how much he missed Rachel. Sam's heart bled for his brother. His unknowlingly, love sick, heart broken brother.

"No." Dean said after a moment. "People are dying here Sam. We need to be here."

Sam knew he was right. They couldn't just up and leave. Three people had died here in the last 2 weeks and every incedent had the shroud of the supernatural clouding it. As much as he wanted Rachel back in their lives he knew that they had a duty here and they had to take care of this first.

"Besides," Dean went on when he saw that Sam wasn't going to argue the point. "She's a hunter. If we tied her to a chair she'd escape and kick both our asses."

Dean turned to walk up the stairs and Sam followed him. Knowing that he was one hundred percent right.


	6. Chapter 6

Frannie was not a name you associated with a hot girl. Not by any means at all. Frannie was the name of your middle aged tax accountant with the scratchy voice from years of smoking or the waitress with the saggy boobs whose stockings always peeked out of the hem on her uniform while she served you coffee at your favorite diner.

Frannie was definitely not a beautiful blond wearing a low cut V-neck sweater with sparkling blue eyes that worked behind the counter at this jewelry store.

Yet here she was. Smiling at Dean...oops, no. Not Dean. Here in his dark suit he was FBI agent Osborn and he was asking her about the death of the stores senior buyer Helena Dixon. But every time she flashed that smile at him it went right to his cock and Agent Osborn had trouble concentrating on his task.

So much so, that he glanced over to Sam who, dressed similarly to him in a lighter blue suit with his hair slicked back to appear older and posing as FBI agent Solo, was interviewing the store manager and Dean was sure by the way his brother's eyebrows were drawn in in concentration as he listened to the man that he was getting much more info from him on this potential case that he was getting with Frannie.

With that assuredness tucked away in his back pocket, he turned back to Frannie just in time to see that smile again and hear her ask in her slightly ditzy voice about what it was like to be an FBI agent.

"Well, it's dangerous." Dean answered with a contemplative sign and a humble tilt of his head "And the secrets we've gotta keep, oh. God, the secrets. But mostly it's, it's lonely."

"I so know what you mean." Frannie proclaimed with eyes that widened just a bit.

Dean contemplated her seriously for a moment and tried to fight his thoughts from going to Rachel.

Damn it. Every time a girl flirted with him his mind went to her. And every time it happened he withdrew from the female because he was haunted by the dark hair and green eyes that still wanted nothing to do with him.

He steeled his will this time and forced himself to push Rachel out of his head before she could gain a hold there and make him turn off the charms he wanted to lay on Frannie here. Amongst other things he wanted to lay on her of course.

Better to have a real girl in front of you that wanted you than one in some place unknown that wants nothing to do with you at all. Dean thought and then flashed Frannie his most winning smile.

He saw her melt a little at the sight and was happy to know that his smile had the same effect on her that hers had on him.

"Yeah." He drawled out and then went back to business as much as he could. Still had a facade to keep up no matter what. He inquired about a few of Helena's habits and then turned to the day of the murder of the security guard. He would learn later from Sam that Helena had come back after closing and began to clear the jewelry from the display cases into an over night bag she'd brought with her.

The night watchman, Edgar, had called the manager that Sam was speaking to now instead of the police because he had known Helena for years and was unsure of what to do. She had shot Edgar in the face with his own gun during the phone call.

From Frannie, Dean found out that later that night the police had went to Helena's house to find her dead in the bathtub.

"She killed herself?" Dean asked.

"Well, the cops said. She dropped the hair dryer in the bath and fried herself. They should know, right?"

Yes, if someone set it up to look that way. Dean thought to himself. To Frannie he said:

"Yeah. Well, thanks, Frannie, I think that's all I need."

A look of disappointment crossed her features and she stumbled on her next words when he made a move to turn and go.

"Really? Because I've got more." She said.

Dean raised an eyebrow ever so slightly and Frannie looked around slyly before speaking again, making sure she leaned on her crossed arms over the display case to give Dean a full view of the ample cleavage the V-neck sweater revealed.

"You know, if you wanted to interview me sometime. In private?" She finished.

Her voice was velvety and sultry and oh God almighty in heaven did he want to 'interview' her in private.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think that's a good idea. You're a true patriot, you really are." He pulled one of the fake F.B.I. cards out of his wallet and slid it to her across the glass. "Why don't you write your number down there for me, that'd be good."

Dean walked out of the jewelry store with a spring in his step and a smile he was trying to hide form Sam on his face.

The Sam issues seemed to be quiet for now, he had a case to work on and the number of a beautiful woman that wanted him in his pocket. Rachel still reverberated around the edges of his brain but this was the best he'd felt in months concerning her. Maybe he was starting to finally push her out of his mind, sure felt like it at this very moment anyway. And for that he was grateful because it meant that the torture of losing her would finally start to abate soon.

Dean felt so good that he even let Sam drive to the house of a one Mr. Resnick. The next person on the list they needed to speak to.

Mr. Resnick worked security for the Milwaukee National Trust which was hit with the same MO as the jewelry store but a month prior. At Mr. Resnick's bank the senior manager robbed the vault at night then went home and committed suicide, just like Helena. BUT, according to police reports, Mr. Resnick had a very odd theory as to why the manager had done such a thing. Which was why he was on the Winchester radar.

"Five - this is it." Sam called as they pulled up to the curb outside the house. Night had fallen and the street lamps had come on. If Dean's mind had not been preoccupied with Frannie he might just have seen the white Mustang parked on the corner as he got out of the Impala and maybe even had heard the clank clank clank of high heels that stopped suddenly right behind him as they ceased their approached the same house he was headed toward at the sight of him.

But no. He hadn't seen or heard any of that because his mind was still full long blond hair and sky blue eyes. Instead it took two quick taps on the shoulder from his brother to get his attention. When he looked up at Sam, Sam was looking at something behind him and he nudged his head slightly in that direction, motioning for Dean to look that way.

Slightly confused, Dean turned a one eighty on the ball of his foot and there she was, standing in front of him, her forward motion halted at the sight of him.

Frannie flew out of his mind. The blond hair dissolved and gave way to long black locks which were currently piled in a beautiful up swept twist, white cleavage in a v-neck sweater gave way to the lean figure clad in a dark blue suit like that a female F.B.I agent would wear in the field, it's tailored lines professional but still met with a sexiness that was unintentional because of the beautiful, lithe, curvy woman's body underneath it. The blue eyes melted and became green. Vibrant green that showed a bit of shock to be looking at him.

His own shock took him like a sucker punch as he met her eyes. His gay mood flooded out of him, replaced by two things other feelings, the first was excitement when he realized he was staring at Rachel, to be looking at her again after almost aching for her made his heart race in his chest and, God help him, he almost smiled at the sight of her.

But before the corners of his mouth could rise the other feeling struck him hard: Resentment. It washed over him like a wave and mixed with the happiness to see her, but only momentarily before overwhelmed him and began to writhe inside like a nest of snakes.

It turned the smile that would have been into a smirk and he felt his eyes turn harder on her. She'd been avoiding him so hard, yet here she was now, caught like a deer in headlights at the unexpected sight of him. So much for that huh? He read the discomfort on her face and took a tiny bit of joy in it. Ok, maybe not so tiny.

"Well, hello Rachel." He said. His voice dripping with sarcastic irony.

The shock on her face softened and despite his harder glare at her, her eyes became sympathetic and almost apologetic. When she spoke it was with a soft tone and the simple "Hello, Dean." she uddered was saturated things unspoken under the uttered greeting.

The moment hung in silence between them as they stood face to face under the street lamp. Dean had almost forgotten his brother until Sam stepped forward and spoke to her.

"What're you doing here Rachel? Headed to speak to Resnik by any chance?" Sam asked.

Rachel took her eyes from his at last and looked up at Sam standing next to him.

"Actually yes. The bank and jewelry store robberies caught my eye. I'm not staying too far from here so I thought I would check it out." She answered.

She glance at Dean again but looked back up at Sam quickly when he spoke again. Obviously trying not to have too much contact with Dean.

"Yeah, we just left the jewelry store actually. Let's hit this together since we're all here" Sam asked.

Dean cursed at Sam in his head. He knew Sam wanted the him and Rachel to find common ground again but did he have to be so fucking obvious about it? Not that it mattered, She did exactly what he thought she would next.

"No, Sam. Not this time." She said.

She looked back at Dean while still speaking to Sam. He voice wasn't angry or hard, but sad almost as she spoke the next words.

"There's no point in even trying to beat around the bush. I'm going to go, you guys take care of this one." and with that she gave him a longing look, if he didn't know any better he would say that it was hard for her to get that out because it wasn't really what she wanted to do.

"I'll see ya." She said and turned away. Dean watched her back as she retreated. The sway of her ass and the 'Click click click' of her heels filling his head.

Something in his chest sank and he felt...he felt. GOD DAMN IT, Why did he have to feel anything at all?! Especially this shit that was so foreign to him? He wanted to scream at her not to go, to face him and talk to him.

Before he could register it into any kind of action his brother was looking at him in he face, blocking her retreating form.

"I'm going into the car. You're going to stop her before she leaves. Don't let her walk away from you again." Sam said, his brown eyes just as expressive as they always were only this time they were tinged with urgency.

It was all Dean needed. He wasn't going to let her go again. He'd been patient enough, waited enough. He wasn't going to let her go again with out at least telling her that he thought she was being a bitch at this point. If nothing else it would help him sleep better tonight now that Frannie was erased from his mind.

He stepped around Sam and set his sights on her. She was almost to the car, her key in her hand.

The steps he took toward her were the determined kind. The kind a man took when he knew his heart was on the line and the pace of his strides were the deciding factor in his destiny. Like when a lover was getting on a plane to leave you behind and you had to make it there to plea one last time that she stay. Only now it was just with the determination that she at least hear him out, for his own sanity. Dean Winchester would be shut out no longer, she may never speak to him again after this and that was fine. But the limbo ended tonight.

She had the car door open when he reached her. He placed his hand next to hers on the door frame and pushed it shut, not violently but only just. The loud "THUD" of the door slamming rang through the night and he swore she flinched just a tiny bit.

He pushed his frame against the newly closed door, between her and the car, forcing her to look up at him and blocking her escape. His eyes and voice were still hard when he spoke and she looked up at him with sad eyes.

"You're gonna listen to me. Rather you like it or not because I'm done with you trying to pretend that I don't exists. You owe me that." He said, his brow furrowing and his heart thudding in his chest.

"I know." She said, her voice soft to match her eyes.

"It stinks that my father got your dad killed, ok. Ans if he were alive I'd punch the bastard in the face for you for being so stupid. I understand that you're hurt by it all and that when you see me you see how much you hate my dad, but considering the fact that you used to look at me VERY differently before you knew makes all this very unfair." He said, the resentment rolling inside him.

"I know." she said again. Her voice calm and quiet.

"I didn't deserve how you treated me that day. You acted like I was covered in boils, do you know how much that hurt?" He asked.

"Yes. I know. And I'm sorry. I swear that I am." She said.

"You're sorry?" He asked incredulously. "I try for months to get you to speak to me, trying everything to not walk on the eggshells you have around you and you can only say that to me after I have you cornered?"

"Yes, I couldn't speak to you. I still can't. Please, let me go." She begged.

"Not until you tell me why." He asked softly. The anger not so all-consuming anymore. Not he just wanted to hear her say it to him, what he wondered all this time. He looked deep into her eyes and tried to see the answer. "Please, just tell me why when I did nothing."

He felt her ache to touch him. He felt how hard she held herself back and it made him happy inside to know that after pulling away from him months ago, she now wanted to touch him so bad. He wanted her to touch him, everything in him wanted to capture the sides of her face in his hands and close his lips over hers.

"When I understand it myself I promise you'll be the first one to know. This isn't your fault, it's completely me at this point." She said.

"Are you really giving me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech?" He asked.

"NO!" She said, blinking at him. "I'm trying to tell you that I know I've been horrible to you but I'm still working it out. I'm sorry for how I treated you, I know I was wrong but I can't help how I feel or the fact that I'm still getting over it."

"You know, I've never met any one in my life that needs as much time to sort shit that happens to them out. Or any one that can take out something bad that happened to them on an innocent man." He shot.

"Dean-" She started

"Especially when the innocent man is someone you have history with." He finished, cutting her off.

"I know. I don't blame you for hating me." She said.

"Hate you?" He said, narrowing his gaze at her. "I don't hate you at all...I feel sorry for you."

With that he reached behind and pulled the handle of the car door. He opened it, moving out of her way and holding it open for her to get in. His actions making it clear that he had nothing else to say to her and that it was time for her to go.

She lowered her eyes and his heart clenched at the look on her face at his dismissal. He hardened himself against the sorrow that crept in for her. But after months of being kept at arms length, it felt good to finally show her that she hadn't crushed him and that he wasn't going to be the asshole anymore.

With out looking back up at him she slowly got in the car. When her back was to him as she maneuvered into the drivers seat he shut his eyes and took a silent breath against the onslaught of misery that hit him. But once she was in regained his composure and shut the door between them, walling them away from one another.

He stood outside her window as she started the car, the jacket of his suit pushed back and his hands in his pockets. The beautiful hum of the mustangs engine made him recall the times he teased her by singing 'Mustang Sally'. The way she'd laugh over the phone or her smile the one time he'd held her down in bed to sing it sultrily to her. They'd been naked after just making love and she fake struggled to get away from him while he sung, protesting that his voice was a grating noise on her poor ears.

That happy memory was ironically what washed over him as she met his gaze through the glass one last time, her eyes filled with apology before she put the car in gear and drove away.


	7. Chapter 7

"Good night, Rachel. You sure your ok, closing up on your own?" Richard said at the door.

Without looking up, Rachel waved at her boss to be quiet for a second while she finished counting the last of the change. When she was done she shut the draw of the cash register and looked out over the bar toward the middle aged man that was her employer.

"Yeah Rich, I'm just gonna clean up and be five minutes behind you." She reassured him. "You've been here all day, go home."

He had been there all day. The little punk that ran the day shift went AWOL on him so Richard had pulled a double shift. The exhaustion showed on his face and Rachel really did feel for the guy.

"Wish I had four more just like you, Rach. Good night, sweetie." He said and went through the door.

Rachel smiled as she watched the kind man step out into the darkness and the door close behind him. It was only seconds later that she realized that she was alone in the deserted bar and silence was pressing in all around her. She hated the silence. She had time to think in the silence and her thoughts weren't something she was friendly with these days.

She moved around the bar, grabbed a tray off the end of it and began the gather the empties at the tables from the back. Right about now would have been the perfect time to pop a few coins into the ancient Juke Box her mother had in the bar back home. Music would fill the air and she could sing along or hum as she did her work and her mind could be filled with the rhythm of the guitar or the beat of the drum.

But Richard had no Juke in his bar like Mom did in hers. So instead all the air was filled with was the sound of her echoing footsteps and the clank of glasses and bottles as she cleared the tables.

Not enough. Not enough to distract her senses and before she knew it, she began to see the hint of hazel-green eyes in her thoughts. The sound of a rich voice hinted in her memory's ear and the thoughts of how wrong she'd done him began to well up in her very being like it always did when she had to think about it.

Her heart growing heavy, she took the full try to the bar and began to unload the longnecks and draft glasses there, thinking to make another sweep before loading the sink up. She heard the door open behind her and felt a tiny bit of relief for the distraction that was about to happen. Rich was a little absent minded, it wasn't uncommon for him to make a trip back for something left behind after he'd left for the day. With this in mind she didn't even bother to turn around, but continued to unload as she spoke.

"Forget something Rich? At this rate you're never getting home and your wife might think you're having an affair with me." She said with a smile.

The voice that answered her was one she recognized, but it wasn't that of her boss.

"I'm sure Rich is half way home by now and his marriage still very secure." Sam Said.

Rachel raised her head and ceased her work but still didn't turn around. Had she summoned a Winchester with her thoughts? Did it matter that she'd been thinking of his brother? Well, what ever it was he was here, she might as well play nice and turn around and acknowledge him.

She did and there he stood. Dean's little brother in all his tall, boyishly hansom glory. His sandy hair a little longer that what she'd remembered from the last time she'd him, he wore blue jeans, a plaid shirt, boots and a tan carhart jacket. He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey Sam. You're the last person I'd expect to see here." She said honestly.

"Well, I guess I'm full of surprises. So can I get a beer?" He asked, his face open and friendly like it always was.

Rachel stopped for a moment. Was this a good idea? Why was he here? Dean had stopped calling her and Sam had never tried. There had to be a reason he was here and she had a feeling it wasn't a positive thing if he was reaching out to her for the first time ever since her falling out with him and his brother.

But then it occurred to her that she would never know what it was if she sent him away, and in all honesty she was done pushing people away. She'd pushed Dean until he'd broken and wanted nothing to do with her anymore. She didn't blame him one bit but here Sam was, and she'd always had a soft spot in her heart for him. So yeah, how could a beer hurt?

"Sure. Come sit, one beer comin' up." She said as warmly as she could and headed back behind the bar to grab a Bud, Sam's favorite. She watched him stride across the room and take a seat on one of the stools. She came back around, twisting the cap off the dark brown bottle and settling it in front of him before taking the seat next to him.

She faced him as he took a long swallow of malt inside, propping her elbow on the bar and hooking her heel on the stool rung below her.

"So how'd you find me? I did everything I could not to be found." She said.

Sam shrugged.

"Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?" He offered.

She smile at him again, she should have known better.

"You say we, but you're alone." She observed.

"Yeah, Dean couldn't make it." Sam said again after another swallow.

She tried to hide her disappointment. She'd hurt Dean and even though she still hurt herself, she'd welcome the opportunity to try and make right by him. She when she'd seen Sam standing in the doorway she'd secretly hoped Dean wasn't far behind.

"So what're you doing here Sam? I mean we didn't exactly part on the best of terms." She reminded him.

"Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here." Sam said as he took off his jacket. "I kinda - I wanted to see if we could square things, you know. Enough's enough, don't you think?"

A little buzz went off inside Rachel. Something about Sam's demeanor irked her a tiny bit. She pushed it down, she hadn't been in his company on months on end and knew for a fact that Dean had relayed the message that his fathers final order was that his life be put to an end if he couldn't be saved. Something like that changes a person and it seemed that Sam wasn't the innocent, sweet thing she remembered. She cut him some slack and tried to ignore the feeling.

She watched him shrug out of the jacket and in doing so, she noticed that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just under the elbow. Right in the crook of his right arm, just below where the fabric was cuffed, stood an angry looking burn mark. She frowned at the sight of it

"Ouch. That looks like it hurts." She commented, looking at the circular mark.

Sam looked down at it and waved a hand in dismissal.

"No. Nah, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove. No biggie." He said.

A perfect round mark from a stove? How did that happen? And in all her travels with the Brothers Winchester she'd bet money on the fact that she'd never seen either of them cook or even boil a pot of water. Dean was the king of bar food so there was never a need. Odd, but she had no reason to doubt him so she didn't say anything.

"So," He said looking back up at her. "can we talk?"

"You're here. Might as well." She said. She tried to sound as warm as she could.

"Look, I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed - consumed with hunting. And he didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me."

"I know that. I guess I was just afraid that it was who Dean was when I first found out. Took me a while to reason with my self that he's not but by then it was too late." She answered honestly.

"Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, that's for sure. You sure you made the right choice, deciding that's not who he is?" Sam asked and took another long drink of beer, waiting for her to answer.

The buzz ran through her again, way he said that, his tone of voice. She wondered for a second if maybe Sam was angry at Dean and that if that's where the hostility she was sensing Sam had toward him was coming from. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it passed through her mind. No, this wasn't anger, the venom that veined Sam's voice was deeper than that. And brothers, especially ones as close as Sam and Dean were didn't get to that stage from a fight, no matter how sever.

"Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Sam said when she took to long to answer.

She frowned and tilted her head at him, not offended by his question but more preoccupied with the fact that he seemed to have just initiated the shedding of the shell of normal Sam he'd been hiding in since he walked through the door. Like a snake slithering out of it's skin, she saw his expression harden slightly and and his eyes, always so warm in their brown depths, grew colder.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said when she still failed to answer. "It's too bad, you know. Because, see Dean, he's not not the type carry a torch for any one."

The snicker he gave sent a chill through her. She heard his words, heard that they were trying to hurt her, but all that was background to her. The foreground of this conversation was Sam's persona. She'd never seen him like this; cruel and harsh.

"I hate to say, Rachel" He continued "But I'm afraid you'll never be more to him then a piece of ass."

"Why are you doing this Sam?" She asked. "Why did you come here tonight?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Rach." He said, his voice becoming mockingly gentle, his eyes softening in faux compassion. The look was so perverted that it was almost hard to look into those warm brown depths because she knew how capable of true tenderness they were. "I'm telling you 'cause I care."

He placed his hand over hers on the bar and Rachel felt something she never thought she would at Sam's touch; disgust. She forced herself not to try to withdraw from him. She was going to handle this gently because the air around them had gotten thick with the promise of turbulence. The best thing to do right now was back away slowly. She just looked down at their joined hands as he spoke again.

"I mean it. I care about you a lot." He said again in those false, honeyed tones.

The hand over her's tightened and became possessive with his suggestive words.

"Sorry Sam. I get what you're trying to say but unfortunately I only have room to be ass for one Winchester at a time." She gave him a weak smile.

She gave her hand a little tug under his to try to escape his touch. Just like she knew he would, he tightened his grip, forcing her to look back up at him.

The smile was gone, his eyes became intense and he spoke the next words as if he'd taken them from his heart

"I can be more to you, Rachel."

The moment hung in the air between them. Rachel's heart raced in her chest and in that moment Rachel realized something horrible: This wasn't Sam.

She didn't know what, or who this was but this wasn't the Sam she'd hunted with, cared about...loved. This was a monster of some kind and she needed to get away from him.

She threw caution out the window. If she had to fight her way out of here she would but she couldn't stand being alone with him for another second.

"Maybe you should leave, Sam." She said softly.

His face hardened. His eyes narrowed with what could only be scorn and he shoved her hand away from him as he stood up.

"Okay." He said.

With one final glare he walked away toward the door. Rachel watched for a second but then stood and turned her back to him as walked out.

She felt a calm rush over her at his withdrawal, she'd figure out what the Hell all that was later but for she was just happy he...She yelped in surprise as strong hands wrapped around her from behind. She knew it was him even before she turned in his grip, pushing at him the whole time, to look up into his face.

"Sam what are you doing?! Let me go!" She cried as she struggled against him.

He towered over her, holding her easily against him as she shoved at him to no avail. his chest was a muscled wall against her and panic rose inside as she realized that there was nothing she could do to over power him.

If she hadn't allowed herself to be snuck up on like this, had kept some distance between them and saw him coming she may have managed to defend herself. She knew how Sam fought, had seen him go hand to hand many times. Her own fighting skills would have kicked in, she wold have used his superior size against him, her own slightness to her advantage, she would have gotten in a few punches or a swift kick to the groin that would topple him like it did all males. She'd kicked his brothers ass in her mothers bar in the dark, she could have gotten him, too.

But she'd turned her back on him. Trusted that he was leaving and had allowed herself to be caged by him like this, where there was nothing she could do but struggle and push demand to know what he wanted. She couldn't match his strength like this, she was helpless.

"LET ME GO, SAM!" She screamed as she shoved against his chest and shoulders. He looked down at her with a grimace of cruel satisfaction as her battle against him didn't even phase him.

He locked his right arm around the middle of her back. Crushing her in a vice grip against him as he ran a hand over her her hair almost gently, he then fisted a handful of her dark locks and tugged a bit, pulling her head back, exposing her throat to him.

"Sam, please! Please stop, what's gotten into you?" She choked.

He held her head back and lowered his mouth down close to hers. She felt his breath on her face and the whole thing was actually almost sensual, he wasn't pulling the fistful of hair he had, he just held it with a little bit of pressure needed to keep her head back, like a lover would his woman's hair to show his incredible desire for her in the heat of passion.

Only this wasn't her lover and this wasn't a passionate moment. This was SAM FUCKING ATTACKING HER!

while he was distracted in trying to get a kiss from her, she'd managed to free one of her arms from where it was mashed between them and was even able to hook her fingers around the half drunken beer bottled she'd served him that was still sitting there on the bar where he'd left it. Her plan was to smash this over his head and hopefully knock him out, but at the very last second before she as able to get a good grip on it, his hand let go of her hair and shot out to clamp down on her wrist, immobilizing her and her would-be weapon. He raised her hand in his a few inches above the bar and slammed it down with enough force to smash the bottle against the bar, shattering the brown glass and sending the shards and liquid that was left inside spraying everywhere.

She was defenseless and at his mercy once again. She saw his expression tighten once again and with brutal force, he spun her around so her back was to him and bent her over so that her face was inches from the bar.

Still she struggled against him, trying to comprehend the fact that this was Sam she was petrified of right now. She felt disgust roll over her as he began to stroke her hair gently, almost lovingly, his breath in her ear.

"SAM! NO! STOP THIS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" She howled to no avail.

Was he going to rape her? Oh God, was that what he had in mind? Sam. Her sweet sweet Sam was going to take advantage of her in the worst way a man could take advantage of a woman. She couldn't bear the thought of such a thing but a second later she realized that that wasn't his intention at all.

He once again fisted her hair, this time not softly like before, pulled her head back sharply enough to make her neck ache, then slammed it forward hard.

Her forehead made contact with the with the solid oak of the bar and everything went black.


End file.
